Phillips remained at the inn for another week, while he took care of arrangements and made a last trip to HMS Active to remove his belongings. The frigate had a new captain now, and the specie had since been delivered to its destination.
The replacement captain, long on the beach, had feared he would never get another command, especially now that rumors of peace were rife. He thanked Phillips for delivering such a well-worked up ship, and promised to treat her well.
It was now time to leave. Phillips’ sea chests were loaded onto the coach. Andrew found a sturdy crate just big enough to fit the two infants into its well-padded interior. As it happened, Mary had no extra clothing, so the coach driver was instructed to stop at the market where she could purchase clothing and such accessories as she might need for herself and the children. While guarding the infants, waiting for her, he had a thought. Climbing up on the top of the coach, he opened one sea chest. Digging down into it, he retrieved two pistols he had purchased long ago in Halifax.
These weapons had a most unusual means of ignition. Instead of the normal flintlock mechanism, these each had a simple hammer, which in the act of firing, dropped upon a little nipple connecting with the pistol’s chamber. A tiny cap, containing fulminate of mercury exploded, sending the flash of the explosion into the chamber, igniting the charge. This was a much more certain means of ignition than the old method of firing the charge with a shower of sparks into a pan filled with loose powder.
There was no powder to be blown away, and the sealed cap was not liable to become wet and misfire. Britain’s highways were not altogether safe these days. Although captured highwaymen were given short shrift and were usually hung soon after capture and conviction, there were always more lads that thought they might like to try their hand.
It had been months since these weapons had last been fired, so he used a little screw on the end of his ramrod to extract the patch holding the ball in. A sharp rap on the coach drew out the ball. And the powder was spilled into the wind. Both pistols were charged afresh and new caps put on the nipples.
The driver had watched him and approved of his care. “No telling who we might come up against, this trip. With the crops so poor lately, many farm laborers have been let go, and some have taken to the highways.”
Phillips saw no sign of a weapon on the man. “Would you have a firearm, at all?”
“No your Honor, I do not. I believe it is the best policy to give them what they want. There are sometimes more than one and by myself, I might not be able to fend them off, even if I had a gun.”
Phillips answered. “We will be carrying a young woman as well as two babies. I am afraid I do not wish to depend on any highwayman’s mercy to protect these charges. If you wish, I will buy you a firearm here to help defend the coach.”
“Well sir, seeing you have those pistols, maybe I can see my way clear to use a gun on a highwayman. If you want to go to the expense, I know a man with a double-barrel eight gauge Manton who has guarded coaches in his time. Would you like me to call on him and see if he would be interested in travelling with us?”
They agreed to ask the gentleman and Mister Taylor was willing. Max was a short, stocky fellow of middle years, sporting a tremendous growth of whiskers. He was armed with a heavy fowling piece such as market hunters sometimes used. He assured Phillips he had two ounces of swan shot down each barrel and assured his new employer that any highwayman coming within range would regret it.
Max was able to furnish the driver with a short barreled weapon with a bell muzzle that he warranted was deadly to evil-minded people. He explained the advantage of this weapon was its ease of loading. Having fired the weapon, one just dumped a large quantity of powder down the bell muzzle, following that with a quantity of large shot. If one wanted to be nice about the matter, one could add a pinch of priming powder to the pan, but that was not really necessary.
The vent in the barrel was large, so one could just jar the butt down on something hard, and sufficient powder would fall into the pan. Enough to fire the gun, at any rate. The bell-shaped muzzle enabled one to load it on the top of a jolting coach with no difficulty.
Seeing all of this artillery prompted Phillips to take his long-rifle from the case in which he carried it. The rifle was not loaded, so he charged it with powder and the elongated ball the weapon fired. It used the same caps as did his pistols, and he felt he was ready to face the dangers of the road.
Not wishing to frighten the young woman, he stowed the rifle in its case on the floor. The case looked like an innocuous wooden box and should not alarm anyone. The pistols, he slipped into his pockets, where they would be ready for emergencies.
When Mary stepped into the coach, she thought the box for the infants a good idea. She carefully arranged the baby’s blankets and first placed the box on the seat beside her. Phillips convinced her the box was liable to fall to the floor of the coach and advised her to place the box there so the babies could not fall.
Mrs. Jenkins had packed a basket of food to carry with them, and a dozen bottles of wine rested in their own padded basket. Phillips told Mary they had better stick to drinking either beer or wine on this journey, since any water they were offered was likely to be suspect.
The driver initially started slowly, so as not to upset the infants. The coach was well-sprung and its continual rocking motion soon put the babies to sleep. Once out in the country-side, the horses increased their pace. They were big coach horses, four of them, with a light load, so they began making good time. Before he expected, they were at the first relay inn where the horses were to be exchanged.
Phillips reminded Mary this was a chance for her to visit the necessary should she need, and make any food or drink purchases. When she went around back to the necessary, he bought a pail of beer and some stoneware cups. Mrs. Jenkins had taken him aside and advised him to furnish Mary with plenty of beer, explaining it would make her milk flow. Bemused, Phillips did as he was told, and the two of them had almost finished the pail before they reached the next inn.
The innkeeper’s wife offered to serve them dinner, but after looking at the evidence on another traveler’s plate, Phillips declined and bought another pail of beer, with the pair lunching on the provisions supplied by Mrs. Jenkins. The driver and guard ate their food on the coach, and they were ready to travel as soon as the fresh horses were hitched. The drive was becoming boring as the afternoon wore on. Mary was painfully shy and had no opinion on any subject, except the price of bread, of which she was indignant.
It was getting late in the afternoon, and there were several more hours to go when the driver rapped on the coach roof. Phillips put his head out the coach window and wondered at what he saw. Up ahead, three men were wielding axes on a roadside tree. His first thought that one of them was sure to be hurt, with three axes flying at the tree like that. Then looking off to his right, he saw a horseman, on top of a nearby hill, silhouetted against the gathering dusk. Behind was still another horseman following.
A curt word to Mary bade her to get on the floor of the coach. As she did, he extracted his rifle from the case beside his seat and placed his pistols beside him. The driver whipped up the horses to rush the people ahead, but then the tree fell across the road, blocking it. Pulling up the horses, the driver warned Phillips to ready his rifle. He would only get one shot from it, since it took a while to re-load. He hoped the driver and guard had their own weapons prepared.
He cringed when he heard the driver’s blunderbuss roar. It was strictly a short range weapon and they were better than a hundred yards away from their target. Well within range of his rifle though, so he steadied it on the window frame and waited for the coach to come to a halt. As it did, he took careful aim of one fellow’s belly and squeezed off a shot. He was not trying to be fancy, he just wanted to get one man out of the fight as quickly as possible.
The blunderbuss roared again, without result, on the coach top, and Phillips shouted for the driver to wait until the target was
closer. The horsemen were approaching cautiously, while two on foot were crouching over their downed comrade. Knowing he would not be able to reload in time, nevertheless Phillips reached into his hunting bag and withdrew a paper cartridge. Tearing off the rear of it he shoved it into the muzzle and wielding his ramrod, manage to push the load down the barrel. Now, the two on foot began to advance purposely for the coach. One, in the remnants of a foot soldier’s uniform and carrying a bayonet in his hand, the other still carrying his axe.
As they closed on the coach, the guard fired his Manton. On his first shot, one of the bandits dropped like a pole-axed bullock. The next shot wounded his comrade, but he still kept coming, with his bayonet ready. The driver had his blunderbuss loaded again and fired. In range this time, the man fell twitching into the ditch. His rifle loaded now, Phillips eased a cap on the nipple and looked for the horsemen. One was on his way somewhere else, his mount throwing up clods behind his hooves. The other stood his horse behind the coach, as if unsure of what he was supposed to do.
Again, Phillips lined up his sights, more carefully now since the target was at the limit of his ability, and took the shot. As he saw the smoke spurt from the muzzle of the rifle, the bandit drove his spurs into the animal and the mare started her leap forward. Had he not done so, Phillips thought after, the shot would probably have missed, but the horse’s jump took it into the bullet’s path. The leaden projectile barely missed striking the horse but took the man in the side, right above the pelvis. The panicked animal had his rider off before he made a few more jumps and left the scene, running.
Phillips realized Mary was screaming in his ear and both babies were wailing. He ordered her to shut her mouth and take care of the children while he attended to the downed robbers. Both the guard and driver were off the coach now, their weapons loaded and ready.
Inspecting the three men to their front, two were found dead, while one was still alive after being struck by two blasts from shotguns. Badly wounded, it appeared that he was not long for this world.
Behind them, the man Phillips had wounded was alive and groaning in pain from a bullet in his side and a broken arm from the fall from his horse. He too would likely die sooner or later, since a wound from a large caliber weapon in that part of the body would invariably kill the man. Gangrene was almost a certainty in such a case, Phillips had learned that from visiting ship’s cockpits after a bloody battle. A badly damaged arm or leg could be removed, with a decent chance of saving the man’s life, but a shot in the trunk was usually fatal.
The men were standing there, cooling down, and examining their options. They had two dead bodies, two with deadly wounds, a woman and two infants. They should take the downed bandits to the nearest magistrate, but how was this to be done?
CHAPTER THREE
As they were mulling over the problem, they were startled by the sound of hooves on the hard-surfaced road. A band of horsemen had come up from behind the coach and surrounded them, a dozen men, in all. None carried anything more deadly than small swords and riding crops.
Few explanations were necessary. All were local landowners coming back from a party. They were well acquainted with the highwayman problem in this part of the country. When Phillips said they needed to get these people to a magistrate, but there just was not enough room in their coach, one elderly gentleman sniffed and said he was Sir Andrew Harkins, the magistrate for this locale, and the event could be said to be duly reported.
Two riders were dispatched to ride ahead to obtain a wagon from the next property and take the bodies, living and dead, into town. Apprised of the escape of one man on horseback, the magistrate announced every man with a horse was expected to meet next morning, in front of the livery to pursue the man. Dogs were also to be brought, if possible.
Phillips had his driver take the coach to the next village’s inn where they stayed overnight. There was only one bed, so they would have to share. The guard and driver were going to sleep in the stable, and if Phillips declined to do that, his only other recourse was to sleep in the coach. Mary made no objection when he inquired about the possibility of sharing the bed with her. She acted surprised, as if she thought sharing a bed was the most natural thing in the world.
In her shift, the young woman was appealing, but the two infants between them made a most formidable barrier and Phillips slept soundly that night.
Next morning, he was roused by the noise from the square. Those men intending to pursue the wanted bandit had gathered there and were making an infernal noise.. The magistrate had a huge hound that he was sure would take them to their man. A dozen other dogs were present, but Phillips was told privately that they were just there to lend their voice to the chase. The judge’s big hound would be the one to find the fellow. The judge offered him a good horse to ride, and Phillips accepted.
All of the men were armed, mostly with light fowling pieces. Considering the rifle to be too unwieldy to carry on horseback, he tucked the pistols in a sash he wound tightly about his middle and borrowed the blunderbuss of the driver. He would have liked to take the eight-bore gun of the hired guard, but that wish was refused. The guard and driver said they would sit here in the inn and sample the local ale.
Phillips rode quietly beside the judge out to the scene of the ambush. Magistrate Harkins told him he knew what mount the fellow was riding. “Fellow by the name of Fletcher owns her. He used to ride her every day whenever he had to go someplace. When she got a little old and stiff, he put her out as a brood mare and usually gets a good foal from her every year. She has a strange shape to one forefoot, and I’d know her track anywhere. I saw it last night, and recognized it right away. Last night, while you were asleep, I rode out to his place. He said she was taken a week ago. Thing is, she has not been on grain. Grass fed, and at her age, she won’t last long in a horse race.”
Once at the scene of the attempt on the coach, the judge asked Phillips to show him where the mounted man had sat his horse before fleeing. The magistrate ordered the men to remain at a distance, while he and Phillips located the tracks of the bandit’s mount. Opening a sack behind his saddle, he shook out the contents, a worn and faded saddle blanket. Calling his hound, the animal came loping over along with some of the other dogs that were running free.
The judge shook the blanket out at the dog’s feet and ordered “Find!’ The other dogs were slow to evince any interest, but the big hound took his time sniffing at the blanket, then began searching. Catching the faint scent of the horse on the ground, he began slowly to puzzle out the trail.
The judge explained, while waiting for the dog. “This blanket was used on the mare just before she was taken. It is full of the animal’s scent. The dog will attempt to follow the scent on the ground. As long as our fellow stays with the horse, we have a good chance of catching him.”
The dog, finally finding a strong scent on the ground, set out on a lope, occasionally circling to locate the lost trail. Once after the dog temporarily lost the scent, one of the riders found the hoof prints of the racing mare. After the tracks crossed a stream, the magistrate’s dog suddenly began running, with the rest of the pack baying behind,
The judge kept his men under control, not wanting any headlong pursuit. Stopping once to rest their mounts, the magistrate explained.
“We have better horses, and as long as we can stay on the trail, we are bound to catch him. The tracks we are following now are the ones he made last night, and you can see his animal is exhausted. He will have found a spot to hide last night, but now hears the dogs behind him. With no grain for his horse, he must know he will be caught if he cannot find a better one.”
As the men crested a rise, they saw ahead of them, another small hill, on the summit a grove of trees. The dogs were racing across the intervening valley baying at full cry. As they reached the trees, the dogs found their quarry, an old, tired mare. Some of the dogs would have savaged the animal but the magistrate’s hound knew this horse. In years past, the hound had accompanied
this very mare on many a fox hunt, with the magistrate’s friends. A daring young hound leaped for the horse, but the big leader of the pack put himself in his path and took a chunk out of a big, floppy ear.
With the scene seeming tranquil now, several dogs began collecting at the base of a big, sprawling oak, yapping and barking. The big hound remained impervious to their excitement. He had been ordered to find the mare, and he had done so. Now it was time for a nap.
The judge was not so inclined. He had led these men on a man hunt, and a man was what he wished to find. Careful peering into the canopy revealed a person huddled in the top, where a branch came off from the main trunk. Phillips was asked over to the tree and tasked with identifying the person. He tried to abstain, since he had caught only the briefest glance at the horseman before he galloped off.
“Nevertheless, is there no distinctive clothing the man wore?”
Racking his brain, Phillips recalled the bandit had been wearing a dark cloak when he rode off. He could clearly remember the garment flapping in the wind. This fellow had no garment, but one of the magistrate’s friends spotted just such a robe caught in the branches, partway up the tree. The horseman rode over to the tree and by standing in his stirrups was able to reach the fabric and pull it loose. The man’s horse did not like this strange garment flapping around on his back and took off on a run.
As Phillips watched the rider handle his mount, with the cloak streaming behind, it brought him back to the scene at the coach. He assured the judge the robe seemed to be the one worn by the highwayman. This was enough information for the magistrate. He rode under the tree and shouted up into the branches.
“Time to come out of the tree, young man.”
Thunder On the Sea: A Tim Phillips novel (War at Sea Book 11) Page 2